


My Brother's Keeper

by h00ligan



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Prostitution, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Substance Abuse, no beta we die like ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 08:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20739125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h00ligan/pseuds/h00ligan
Summary: 5 times Diego saved Klaus, and the time he decided to stop.





	My Brother's Keeper

Klaus had been a stoner from the age of 13, or at least to Diego’s knowledge. It was when he found the first joint in the teddy bears haphazardly tossed around his room. They used to partake together, used to laugh at their siblings’ insistence on pleasing their father, the three of them, 2, 4, and 6, even numbers, odd ones out.

It was almost a weekly ritual, until it wasn’t anymore. It became something for Klaus and Ben to bond over, a way to dull their powers, something that Diego couldn’t begin to understand, no matter how many times they had explained it to him. They hated their powers, while to Diego it was just… something he could do, throwing knives.

However, the three did start drinking together when Diego learned how to pick the lock to Reginald’s liquor cabinet, and like that, nothing had changed between the three, sneaking to Klaus’ room, who always seemed to know the most. It made sense at the time to Diego, he could talk to spirits. He had the potential to know so much.

When Ben died, though, Klaus never invited Diego to drink for weeks. He was withdrawn, not even showing up for meals half the time. The liquor cabinet wasn’t missing anything new. There were times he wondered if his brother himself hadn’t become a ghost. He never spoke to any of his siblings, only vocalizing to snap at thin air, apparently Ben’s spirit.

Until one night, Diego was nursing a broken hand, six months after Ben’s death, and he had caught Klaus sneaking into his room, hand in his drawer, grabbing for his pain pills. And if he had use of his right hand, damn, he would’ve thrown a knife right into Klaus’ face, instead, it was the picture of panic. He was desperate.

“_Please_, Diego, Ben won’t—he won’t go away.”

Diego was never the sibling best with _feelings_. Only Vanya or Allison could be fucked to talk, though he always dismissed his sisters, one with an obsession with Luther only eclipsed by her obsession with fame, the other… not like the rest of them. Vanya didn’t know what they went through, she couldn’t, so he didn’t bother. Nonetheless, he sat up, and gestured for Klaus to sit at the edge of the bed.

“What’s with you? I know that Ben’s death has been hard on us all, but—”

“He says he’s touched,” he mumbled absently.

“But you haven’t even been smoking since he died.”

“That obvious?” he asked with the smallest approximation of a smile. “Dad’s put me on lockdown.”

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean_,” he said, swallowing the pill dry. “That Dad has had me in that weird bunker in the basement since he died. He’s trying to make me bring him back.”

“You can’t do that, can you?”

“I was inclined to Little Engine that Could it at first, but seeing as he’s been bringing me to Death’s door on the daily…” he trailed off. “Being submerged amplifies my powers. Did you know that? Because I didn’t until I spent 5 minutes under today.”

Diego knew that their father had a rather unorthodox way of training his siblings whose powers weren’t so straightforward. Not like this, though. He felt anger rise up in him and took his backpack that had 2 weeks of clothes and whatever money he’d scrounged up from signing autographs over the past few years.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Klaus asked, scrambling to follow his brother who was already at the trellis.

“I don’t know. I don’t care.”

* * *

The pair managed to find a place. A gym that needed custodial staff and an empty back room. The owner was a lout, but it wasn't as bad. Their father hadn't been looking for them, which Klaus found to be a relief, though he'd found other reliefs as well. 

"I can bring in extra money, you know." They were sparring, a way to keep up with the training, in a way they both subconsciously knew would be to fight back against Luther and Allison should Reginald ever find them. It wasn't something they liked to talk about.

"What?" Diego took one of Klaus' feather-light jabs. He was skinny before moving out, but now the pair could barely manage food on the table. Somehow, he always managed to evade starvation, spending his share of the spare money on junk out of the vending machine.

"My seance gig. I can be one of those mediums. Rich people pay out the ass for those fake TV ones, and I actually have credibility." Klaus dropped to the ground when Diego tried to jump him, re emerging behind him. Little shit was always slippery. It was all he was good for in a scrap.

"I'm not sure about that." He said, turning around. "I mean, I don't want you to get triggered like that just so we can get extra money." He successfully pinned down Klaus this time, and he gave a rueful smile. 

"Okay, Two, Uncle," he laughed, before retreating to their apartment and offered him a chocolate bar that had some... special stuff in it. "Indulge?"

"I can't. I'm trying to, uh," he laughed a little. "I'm trying to get into the Police Academy."

"What's her name?" he asked pointedly, taking a look at Diego's bed and noticing it was disheveled on both sides. 

"Eudora," he sighed, knowing there wasn't a point in keeping secrets from his brother. 

"Eudora!" Klaus exclaimed enthusiastically. "Oh, I'm sure she's completely lovely. Must be pretty special to make you consider entering the fray again."

"Yeah," Diego replied with a small smile. He realized how Klaus had grown since their escape, finally able to show his enthusiasm. "So, you have a special lady?"

Klaus looked at his feet and became quiet. Shit. He said something stupid, didn't he? Him and his big mouth. At length, he spoke up. "I don't think I... like ladies like that. They're lovely and beautiful, and all, but." His brother turned beet red. "I mean, I don't want this to make things weird."

That made a lot of sense, and Diego was mentally kicking himself that he didn't notice earlier. Of course. He wore Grace's heels, chatted up Allison and was the only one able to keep up with her river of pop culture references, the two shared magazines, for God's sake. He only opted for hugging his brother.

Klaus hugged back, taking a shaky breath. "Liam," he said at length. "I've been sneaking out after dark to meet this guy, Liam. He's a little older, but he's just... really special. He doesn't know about the Academy."

"Is it too much to ask that I meet the man who so fully wooed my brother?"

He averted his gaze again. "He wants to keep things quiet. I'm going there later tonight, though. I can ask him about it."

Diego always knew when something was wrong with his siblings, he could _tell_. And he didn't know what kind of divine intervention happened that he followed Klaus that night, but he was glad it happened when he found him unconscious next to a man 5 years his senior who was... he checked for a pulse, and feeling his stomach turning, picked up his brother whose only response was a feeble groan and called Pogo, unable to tell if the stupor was his powers or, he knew more likely, an overdose.

When he returned to consciousness in their apartment, Klaus smiled blearily up at Diego, blissfully unaware of how close he had been to death an hour prior. "Oh, Diego. You met Liam--" then a form of realization crossed his eyes, which immediately started watering. "I'm tired." he said, turning around, and Klaus could hear quiet sobs through the night. 

* * *

Klaus wasn't very good at cleaning up the gym, Diego knew. His bedroom was always a mess of tossed all over teddy bears that Diego knew had pills and pot and wrapping papers and grinders, old clothes all over the room that Grace had to pick up. He was always chaotic like that, even before he started to get high, but not it was different.

Klaus was like a cat, Diego observed. He still contributed to rent and food bills, but he also started drinking more, smoking more, came in at odd hours of the night. After the first overdose, after he lost Liam, any sort of enthusiasm drained from him and he started to more and more resemble his ghosts. Smudged black liner that wouldn't be cleaned off for weeks, coming back bruised in all the places he knew exactly what he was doing.

After fumbling his law courses at the Academy, he dropped out, happy to keep with the boiler room, while Eudora was a beat cop now, starting out at Vice since she was so gifted at it, apparently.

He knew that he never deserved her in the first place. She was always so good with witnesses, so compassionate, as opposed to Diego's style of harsh interrogation. It's what made her so good at working Vice. Sex workers seemed to trust her more than other cops, disarming them with an offer for water and a hot meal before questioning started. She had her own unconventional methods.

Klaus stumbled back in at about 3 am, holding a rotisserie chicken, a bag of dinner rolls, and one of those dehydrated dinner sides that would reconstitute with water and time in the microwave, along with a not so subtle baggie that he kept in his new black coat with feather trim. He hated the thing, but he guessed it made Klaus happy, and it wasn't his place to judge his brother for coping mechanisms.

"I'm breadwinner tonight, and I present to you, the feast," he said, setting everything down and lighting his cigarette, starting to get the side dish together.

"Klaus, how much was this?"

He shrugged. "Chicken was... $6... rolls were... $3... rice was... $1. So..." he paused to count on his fingers. "$10. I should join Smart Shoppers, shouldn't I?"

"And you got pills with it."

His eyes widened as he realized he hadn't properly pocketed his score, shoving it deeper into the coat.

"Where do you get the money?"

"My new job."

"Which is?"

"Ah," he tapped the side of his nose. "Confidential. You're going to need to fuel up for your nightly exploits."

"How did you know?"

He rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I see the ghosts of people you avenge trying to thank you. It's not rocket science."

"So, what are your _nightly exploits_?" He asked. "You said you don't go out to dens after-"

Klaus turned around. "Don't even think about saying his name. I made some friends. We hang out, cash recyclables. You wouldn't believe the way people litter on the overpass."

Klaus sucked at lying, which made him a shit junkie. But Diego dropped it and the two had dinner, never broke the habit of not talking during meals, again, except for Klaus to sometimes mumble at Ben, who apparently wanted nuggets.

He shambled out again at 9, and started to get worried when he didn't show up the next morning, only to get a call from the Police Department. "Eudora?" He mumbled groggily.

"You know, as flattering as it is you think I'm pretty enough to be your girlfriend, dear brother, sadly, no dice."

He sat up. "You got arrested, didn't you."

"Yeah." Not directed towards him, he heard him talking. "Ms. Patch, can I get a coffee for me and my brother when he comes? You're a doll."

"Why are you in Vice's holding cells?"

An hour later, Klaus was in the car, offering his brother a peace offering in a styrofoam cup. "She's lovely."

Diego smacked Klaus upside the head. "_Prostitution_, Klaus?! What the hell were you thinking?"

"That it's easy money," he mumbled. 

"I'm not bailing you out again, Klaus. You're 21. You have to start taking some goddamn responsibility for yourself."

* * *

Allison looked beautiful in her wedding dress. The wedding was a veritable media circus, people asking if her shoes were Loubitin, if her dress was Vera, why her father wasn't there.

If Diego didn't know better, he'd say that Klaus was trying to take away from his sister's day, opting for a pair of leather pants to match the button down shirt, suit jacket replaced with his coat that never left his person. He was shaking though, Diego noticed, hands not in the pockets, cold sweat breaking on his forehead. He really was trying, he thought, a little proud of his brother. Trying to be social, giggling as a reporter asked about his jacket as he replied that it was thrifted, giving a little bow. 

"He's high, isn't he?" Allison asked, suddenly beside him, eyes sad. "I thought he'd stop whenever you two moved out."

Diego shook his head. "This is the most sober he's been since we left. Left his pills in the apartment and had me check his coat."

She turned. "Pills? He's on pills now? Shit, I thought it was just pot."

"It cycles. Pills, crack, coke, heroin, meth, whatever's easiest to get his hands on." He held up a hand whenever he saw her start, pulling her to the press-free section. "I've tried sobering him up, Allison. I don't know what to do. If he's not high, a few hours later, his PTSD gets triggered. Do you know what he gets like? Last week he tried to drown himself in the sink."

"I'm sure Dad can get him sober." She gave him a look. "Listen, I _know_ how you two feel about Dad, but it's been 5 years. You have to grow up about this sometime. He needs help."

"No, he can't go home."

"Why?" 

He remembered 17 year old Klaus' pleading eyes as he begged Diego not to tell Vanya about what happened when they moved out. "He made me promise to keep it a secret between the three of us."

"Three?"

"Just because you can't see Ben anymore, doesn't mean he's not there." He checked on Klaus. God, he was trying. Even avoiding the bar, making small talk with Patrick. "Look at him, Allison. He's trying really hard to be here for you today. He loves you." He saw Klaus jogging over, enveloping his sister in a tight hug. 

"You're a _vision_, Allison. I should've known you'd be the one to get hitched first. Tragically, any gentleman caller has to wait for our love to be legally validated." He swooned dramatically.

She laughed. "Oh, look here, Klaus is playing the gay card again." Her smile momentarily dropped as she subtly tilted her head towards Diego. 

"Oh, don't worry. He knows. Helped me get over my last real breakup like a champ."

"Good. Remember when Dad found my copy of Playgirl in your room?"

"Ugh. _Don't remind me_. I don't think I've ever seen that shade of purple in a man before." Part of Diego felt bad, really. That he missed something about his brother like this, that evidently only Allison knew.

"Hey, I know that it might be a lot, but me and Patrick have a pretty big house, and some family health insurance. You can move in with us. Me and Vanya were talking earlier about how therapy helped with Dad's-" she couldn't seem to bring herself to finish the sentence.

"You can say the word, Ally. Abuse. Dad abused us, emotionally, mentally, physically. I went to some group. Therapy isn't really for me, but I really appreciate the sentiment. Plus, imagine the trouble I'd get you in with the tabloids." He raised his hands dramatically. "Major celebrity's brother has juicy pictures taken with some guy in a drag bar at WeHo. Too much temptation."

She remained unconvinced. "You know I care about you. I want you to-"

He was obviously irritated. "You want me to cope like you do. But he didn't do to you what he did to me. You can't expect me to _talk_ away being locked in a mausoleum. I tried for you today, Allison. I did everything possible to be the slightly eccentric but still picture perfect brother you need at your wedding. But it's not good enough, is it? You'll always find a way to fake concern for the junkie." He held up his "goodbye" hand and ran, escaping from the hordes of press.

"It was a lovely ceremony, Allison," he said, awkwardly hugging her. 

"Are you going to let him be like that?"

"It's just how withdrawal gets to him. He doesn't mean it." He followed his brother, who was already reaching in the glovebox of the car. 

"Thanks," Klaus mumbled, lighting up the joint, shakes slowing as he inhaled deeply. "Want a hit?"

* * *

Klaus and Diego had a birthday dinner every year and sometimes they'd invite Vanya, but not this year.

Klaus took a swig of vodka as he read the passage. 

> "_Klaus was the only other one close to ordinary, the only one whose powers couldn't be used in the heat of combat. He coped with it differently, by acting out to demand attention that he didn't get by beating the bad guy in solo combat. He lit fires, dressed like a girl, and smoked enough that there were times the entire wing of the building smelled. He was also the one whose powers affected him most personally, I'm not sure how genuine his ability to speak to the dead was, or if he just wanted some praise for bringing Ben back in some minor way."_

"She," he shook. "That's what you all thought of me, all this time?"

It was rare for Klaus to raise his voice in anger. "No, Klaus, don't be ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?!" he exclaimed. "She just said she thought I faked my powers for the attention! Oh, I guess it's totally fine for substance abuse to only be a cry for help now!" He picked up the phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Talking to the bitch."

"You don't mean that."

"Well, since everybody apparently knows my life better than I do, do you want to elaborate?" He didn't have an answer for that. "I'm going out."

He kept on the police scanners as he always did, and heard what, deep down, he knew would happen, what'd happened about half a dozen times at this point, so now he kept Narcan in his car. "_Possible overdose--mid twenties white male, umbrella tattoo on forearm, no response."_

No response never mattered with Klaus, he had the tendency to bounce back rather quickly, but got in his car, nonetheless.

* * *

"You're kicking me out?" The voice was almost a shriek as he tried to unpack his very few possessions from the duffel bag.

"I've tried to talk to you about this, but I can't keep babying you. You need rehab."

"I pay rent! I help cover bills! You can't just treat me like trash that you want to get thrown away!"

He held Klaus by his shoulders. "I've put up with this for 7 years, Klaus. I hoped you'd learn to get through your powers, but what Dad did isn't going to go away if you stay high like this. If you need a ride, call the gym. But right now, I have reservations at an inpatient rehab facility just outside of town. Hopefully you can get together enough to manage yourself from there." He took Klaus' key. "There's a taxi waiting outside for you," he said, pushing him out of the door.

He felt like shit. But taking care of Klaus had taken up so much of his life, and his mind, always wondering if he was overdosing somewhere, being arrested somewhere. He was right, because 4 hours later, there was another call from the police station. He didn't answer.

He _was_ at sentencing, though. A year in prison and mandated participation in Narcotics Anonymous after. He couldn't meet his brother's face as he was dragged away in the orange jumpsuit. He couldn't save him again.


End file.
